


the other half

by orphan_account



Series: Latreía mou - Zagreus/Hypnos oneshot collection [5]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: At the exact same moment, do Zagreus and Hypnos realize they love each other.
Relationships: Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Latreía mou - Zagreus/Hypnos oneshot collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630744
Comments: 19
Kudos: 215





	the other half

Zagreus is no stranger to mischief; God of _Impishness_ he’s been rumoured to be by shades who attempt to rationalize on why, exactly, would the Prince of the Underworld risk becoming an unappetizing pulp through his father’s fury by deliberately contravening orders given to him. Because why else would the Prince so brazenly oppose direct instructions from Lord Hades himself, if not for the convenient explanation that Zagreus might merely be the embodiment of shenanigans, an entity birthed solely to cause his father strife much to Hades’ perpetual chagrin. It is an apt title, if anything, God of Tomfoolery, God of Fatherly Frustrations, God of _Let’s see what other motives for filicide I can give Father today. Tonight? Yes._

An easy excuse to explain away such behaviours, such as Hypnos’ endless tardiness is because he is _Sleep_ and therefore _—can you guess it?—sleeps_ on the job. But in reality Zagreus is simply an unsatisfied son, a disillusioned Prince and an _oddity,_ even within the realms of Hell where floating gorgon heads reside. The Underworld has always been his home, his birthplace, but he remains a foreigner regardless, and _Father_ certainly doesn’t help matters whenever Zagreus tries to breach any sort of conversation of the topic. A predictable scowl in response, an anticipated insult, but never answering Zagreus’ inquiries of _who am I, really, Father?_

 _The Prince_ is the obvious answer, _the incorrigible son and thorn to Lord Hades’ side_ the other, and Father has always been quite particular to rudely brush aside Zagreus’ questions on the matter. Only ever articulating his general disappointment and disdain for his son, and it was a fruitless hope to expect anything more, but it had been a hope nonetheless. 

Whatever. Zagreus is no stranger to mischief, as he is no stranger to diving headfirst into action to satiate what he wants. It is his _right,_ after all, to dispel this feeling of being an imposter in his own skin, and Father has always been cruel, even if he never raised his own hand against Zagreus. _(Yet.)_

(It had been _Nyx,_ that soothing foundation Zagreus could always rely on, that ultimately stirs the Prince into reaction. Her answer to his questions was one held with a reserved tone; _You are Hades’ son, as you are my son,_ and Zagreus hadn’t realized it then, but he knows now that they were words met to soothe _herself_ as well as meant to calm him.

Even if she had lied to him, Zagreus knows forgiving her is easy, as is loving her for eternity.) 

“Hypnos, mate.” Zagreus greets with a hearty pat to the smaller God’s shoulder. “Allow me to steal you for a moment?” 

He accentuates the request with a small quirk of the brow, and Hypnos responds in kind, signalling he understands the unspoken words that pass between them. They’ve got their own language, the two of them, born from their mutual want for escapades because obligations are a fickle thing, and why do so when one can instead explore the unending and unexplored recesses of Tartarus? Especially when Zagreus offers himself to that ever accommodating pack mule for when Hypnos consistently whines that he’s tired after taking ten steps. 

_(Or_ especially when Zagreus ~~shows off~~ provides an ever captivating show of skill and talent when he duels with wretches, Hypnos that enthusiastic audience that cheers the advice of _stop getting hit, idiot, who's gonna take me home if you die?_ )

“And _vacate_ my _post?”_ Hypnos responds with exaggerated insult, compounded further with how he brings a hand upwards to clutch as his chest. “I’m quite simply insulted you would assume me to be such a faithless servant. You know I have duties. How dare you attempt to lead me astray.” 

Hypnos looks up to him with a knowing smirk, twirling his quill in his hand as the picture of innocence and it’s probably _really_ obvious to an outside party they speak of fooling around, no matter how covert their speech is. 

Zagreus slowly walks backwards, vacating from Hypnos’ space. “I am but a handsomely masked snare, and you’ve proven yourself adept enough to bypass my seduction. Faithful servant indeed.” He doesn’t need to say the following words, because his request for Hypnos’ presence was loud enough, but he does so anyway: “Meet me in my room when you have the time, yeah? Cheers, mate.” 

Zagreus turns on his heel and leaves. And Hypnos enters his room remarkably soon after, almost as if his words of being a dutiful servant were of complete folly _(who’d a thought)_. Hypnos conducts himself as he always does when he is a denizen of Zagreus’ room, that is, he immediately makes home on Zagreus’ bed with a passionate yawn.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Hypnos says in lieu of greeting, leaning upon his side as he looks at the Prince with an expectant face. “I hope it’s the steam baths. You know I _love_ the steam baths.”

A regular haunt, those rare titular places of calm and respite within Tartarus that has Zagreus become the impromptu guardian against drowning, as Hypnos always risks so when falling asleep in the waters. Always mitigated against by having the smaller God lean against his side while doing so.

“A temptation, certainly.” Zagreus muses, placing his hands on his hips as he meanders closer to stand before Hypnos in the bed. “But I’ve actually got a favour to ask of you, mate, if you’ll indulge me.” 

Hypnos regards him with a considering expression, interest freely cascading upon his face. “Depends.” Hypnos squints. “What boon do I get from offering my invaluable services?”

Invaluable services indeed, of which Zagreus knows he can rely on and whose prices will be steep. _Debt_ is a horror for any being, immortal and mortal alike, and is something Zagreus prefers to _free_ others _from_. But he knows he can trust Hypnos, and any debt he is to be obliged to is one he’ll readily accept, any fee never too big.

“I haven’t… thought of such, yet, but know you’ll be handsomely rewarded, if you so choose to help, mate.” Ultimately, it’ll be Hypnos to say his price, and ultimately, Zagreus will fulfill it. “Because I will admit it _is_ a large request.” 

Zagreus’ tone reveals the gravity of the request more so than the words themselves. He can see Hypnos come to that understanding, as the smaller God regards him for a quiet moment, before shifting. Hypnos maneuvers himself to sit upon the bed with crossed legs, showing his increased attention. 

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense.” Hypnos drawls. “So long as it’s not, I dunno, putting your Dad to sleep, then Hypnos and His Precious and Irreplaceable Labour is open for business.” 

Clearly, they’re on the same wavelength. And for all his lack of ability in his own work, Hypnos makes up for being an apparent Oracle. 

Zagreus’ wince is answer enough, and any residue of sleep is instantly revoked from Hypnos as he straightens where he sits.

“You want me to put your Dad to sleep.” Hypnos says, flatly. His smile is an expertly kept mask he is rarely seen without, but even still Zagreus can see it twitch and, well, for good reason. 

“Actually, I was hoping you could put the _entire_ House to sleep, so I might plunder Father’s records.” Zagreus quips with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

Clearly it isn’t, with how Hypnos simply stares at him with a blank expression _(smiling,_ still, but that’s his default expression). Zagreus morphs his face to make an expression of condolences instead.

“I’m _sorry,”_ Hypnos scoffs, after a moment. “It sounded suspiciously like you’re asking me to put the _entire House_ to sleep so you may pillage through those _confidential and private_ records of your Dad’s, which would absolutely result in _both of us_ being thrown in some cavernous and pointy pit. But of course you _wouldn’t_ ask me to put _the entire House to sleep_ so you may pillage through those _confidential and private records_ of your Dad’s, because it _absolutely will result in both of us being thrown into some painful pit._ ” 

And, well, yeah, _yeah_ the possibilities of punishments are literally endless. Despite Hypnos’ general apathy for productivity or the fact he’ll readily engage with Zagreus in hijinks at the cost of his post, Father’s reprimands are usually short of a biting berating. Such transgressions are a small thing, in the grand scheme of things, but _this,_ isn’t. 

Father will absolutely notice. And he’ll absolutely know Hypnos would be to blame. The risk is high, and the rewards are uncertain. Zagreus goes on a gut feeling, but he’s always been taught to work on his instincts, and Achilles’ teachings have not failed him yet. 

(And, hopefully, it won’t fail Hypnos, because such a thing would be an impossible stain to live with.)

“Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Zagreus says casually, for Hypnos to further digest that yes, Zagreus is completely serious, than anything else.  
  
“With the steam baths!” Hypnos responds with a higher voice than usual. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You want your Dad to _kill_ me.”

Hypnos looks to him with an imploring face, and it isn’t an expression Zagreus would like to be subjected to again, anytime soon. 

Gods, Zagreus _knows,_ too, that Hypnos, in his words, doesn’t allow himself to be _used._ One too many experiences with putting Zeus to sleep which nearly resulted in Hypnos’ death, his _permanent_ death—if Hypnos’ recreation of the event was anything to go by—and that experience was enough to have Hypnos halt any charity he gives, unless compensation was ensured. It feels like filth on his hands, to ask Hypnos of such a thing, but he trusts Hypnos. He’s desperate, to ward away this feeling of being some charlatan in his own home, his home that has felt increasingly alien, and Zagreus trusts Hypnos, trusts him with everything Zagreus is and ever will be. 

“Never. I would not ask this of you if I wasn’t sure this was well worth the risk.” Zagreus says, words resolute in honesty as a physical thing in the air. “You know I haven’t—felt right, recently.” 

Hypnos, along with Nyx and Achilles, are the only ones to be privileged enough to see Zagreus _mope_ so, with this subject. Theirs is a presence Zagreus has all the reason to have faith in, but it had been Hypnos that found him sulking at the cliff that extends from the courtyard as some lonesome gargoyle, gazing into the sprawling mists of Tartarus in some vain hope it would give him clarity. And it had been with Hypnos, that Zagreus felt without shame to grieve with.

(' _I don’t belong here,’ Zagreus muttered, that weight in his chest seeking to drown him in tar, and Hypnos was uncharacteristically silent. He was silent still, when he guided Zagreus downwards to rest on his lap, with fingers that carded through the Prince’s hair as a soothing lullaby._

_‘You make it better, here, if that helps any.’ Hypnos muttered back, words as a foreign substance in his mouth with how he enunciated it with a level of uncertainty. Uncomfortable, he was, with such open sentiment, but comfortable enough to attempt to relieve that weight in Zagreus.)_

Hypnos remembers that. Zagreus can tell, by how his smile finally peeters out and he no longer attempts to manually keep it on his face. 

Hypnos’ words are resigned, because he knows Zagreus is committed to this sedition. “Take Cerberus for a walk, then, that’s proven to lighten your spirits. _Treason_ probably isn’t the way to go about things, yeah?” 

Hypnos’ shoulders slump, conceding, and Zagreus never wants to be a burden on Hypnos’ shoulders. 

“Hypnos.” Zagreus starts, before deciding a _fuck it_ and bringing himself to his knees. Hypnos literally _squeaks_ when he does so, bringing his knees together and Zagreus is too focused on what he’s about to ask to notice. “I will do anything you ask. I promise you here and now, on my knees, that there is no payment too high for this.” 

Man, Father would be livid if he found Zagreus doing this. Not even the _conspiring against him_ part, but rather the fact Zagreus would lower himself (both physically and metaphorically, hah) to such a degree. _Begging,_ he would call it, _becoming a sniveling rat._ Princes do no such thing, much less the son of Hades, but Zagreus does, because he knows he’ll do anything for Hypnos, treason notwithstanding.

“I swear it.” Zagreus finishes, speaking that promise into existence as a physical thing if Hypnos so chooses to accept. And that’s a dangerous thing _, promises._ _Debts,_ and Zagreus has seen too many shades shackled to such a thing to not know that it is precarious thing to pledge. But he trusts Hypnos, with everything and anything.

And it’s an easy thing, a terribly frightening thing, to know with certainty he would do anything for Hypnos. 

But it feels _right,_ especially when Hypnos’ eyes light, ever faintly, but they _light_ up, with a sense of determination. And Zagreus knows Hypnos accepts even before he says it. 

(And Hypnos already knew he would help Zagreus, even before he himself was cognizant of fact, the moment he remembered Zagreus' all consuming melancholy on that cliff-side.)

“Must be something really, really good in his records.” Hypnos lets out a laugh, a small one, as his regular tone comes back to him. “His private, confidential records that he’s always made sure to keep to his eyes only, what _fun.”_

And Zagreus feels himself light up as well, as if he could give glow to every corner of Tartarus, as something sings in his chest. He knows his gratitude shows on his face, knows its permeates off him as a cascade, and Hypnos looks down at him with a smile. 

“Gods, Zag, get up.” Hypnos says suddenly, standing from the bed and coaxing Zagreus upwards with hands at the Prince’s shoulders. “You’re a _terrible influence._ I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, you _villain._ It better be worth it. _Tell_ me it’ll be worth it.” 

“It will. I promise.” And there’s no longer tension within the room, between them, only a pair planning their usual _mischief._ “I can’t say how, yet, but I am indebted to you, know that.”

And Hypnos gives him a smirk, dimples sprouting and, well, Zagreus has always been impulsive. Because he takes Hypnos in his arms, secures the smaller God tightly against his chest, and keeps him there as an extension of his body (of his _soul)._

“Thank you.” Zagreus breathes, suddenly never wanting to let Hypnos go, and as Hypnos slowly, almost tentatively, brings arms to curl around Zagreus’ waist, slowly nuzzles his face closer into Zagreus’ chest, suddenly Zagreus knows that he loves the man in his arms. As fish swim and bats fly, Zagreus loves Hypnos.

Hypnos eventually shifts, retracting himself, patting a hand on Zagreus’ chest as he does so. He looks up to Zagreus with those honeyed eyes, and Zagreus loves him, truly and deeply he does.

“I expect you to worship me on your knees.” Hypnos drawls dryly. He points a thumb to the bed behind him. “Go to bed. When you awake, everyone will be asleep and you can ransack all you want. When your Dad’s up and looking to _kill me,_ I’ll be hiding in Erebus, so meet me there when you’re done, yeah? I’m going to need a meat-shield.”

Zagreus’ hands are rubbing up and down Hypnos’ arms in a consoling manner before he’s cognizant of the fact, before stopping downwards to take Hypnos’ hands in his own. Small, _delicate,_ and Hypnos is not a small, helpless thing (he's _small,_ but not helpless), but Zagreus wants to hold him indefinitely as if he were. Keep him close, keep him safe, keep those hands locked within his own as a fitted puzzle piece. Hypnos' hands clench around Zagreus'. 

“Noted.” Zagreus says. “Thank you. Again.”  
  
 _“And_ I expect you to be thanking me until the end of time.” Hypnos squeezes his grip, a reassuring anchor, before he takes his leave. And Zagreus already feels the beginnings of Hypnos’ sleeping spell upon the House.

* * *

Gods, _no,_ Hypnos doesn’t like being asked to do anything that may risk him being squashed by Master Hades. Hypnos has never been scared of his Master, no, but he does possess _some_ level of self-preservation, _thanks. Someone_ in this duo of theirs has to.

Zagreus is crazy. Absolutely off the walls bonkers with a healthy want to _die,_ repeatedly, because _sheesh,_ what a masochist. _Fear is for the weak,_ and Achilles is an idiot, _fear is for the smart,_ how does anyone think the humans got this far? Fear is a literal survival instinct. _Ugh._

Of which Zagreus absolutely has _none_ of, considering he’s committed to dying every now and then when gallivanting through the plains of Tartarus like a complete maniac. A little treason goes a long way, and _Persephone_ is a curse of a name, with how Master Hades reacts to it, to the point Hypnos is even cautious to _think_ of the name.

Hypnos can’t really berate Zagreus for his quest for his Mom, _not really,_ he can give his advice each and every time Zag dies but he can’t fully fault the man for his adamant want to find Persephone. Not when Hypnos knows mothers to be a source of refuge, from his own experiences with Nyx. And Hypnos is absolutely a _mama’s boy,_ a badge he wears with pride and Zagreus’ mom has already tarnished herself in his eyes for leaving her own son. For leaving Zagreus, specifically.

And Nyx, beautiful and wonderful _Mom,_ is able to shield him from the wrath of a larger, scarier God once more. He doesn’t know how she does it. He knows Master Hades gives him stink eyes of ruin and appears more committed to insult him more often, but he doesn’t have Cerberus eat him alive. 

(Doesn’t make it forbidden to interact with Zagreus, which had been his greatest fear that he has kept quiet.) 

Mom keeps him safe, as she always does. She told him what he had done was dangerous, obviously, but she had also been— _proud,_ undeniably so. With a hand that caressed his cheek, with a smile that told him that she knew, she always knew, that he loved Zagreus. That he would risk the ire of anyone, Hades or Zeus or whoever, for Zagreus, if it meant making Zagreus’ life that much easier, that much more worth living, if he can be that shoulder to lean on. 

And it’s an easy thing, a terribly frightening thing, to know with certainty he would do anything for Zagreus.

But it feels _right,_ so wonderfully right and he trusts Zagreus is an absurd degree. _Of course you trust Zagreus,_ something says inside him, because _duh,_ Hypnos literally allows himself to be carted off into some corner of Tartarus for Zagreus to go to pound town (not _that_ kind) with wretches. And Hypnos has never particularly liked merely strolling around as some appetizing bait for the unsavoury scum of Hell, but—somehow and unfathomably, Zagreus makes it work. It probably helps that Zagreus looks really, really good killing things _(Sweet Aphrodite have mercy, his_ tits! _His_ biceps! _His_ thighs _and_ ass!), and the man could make watching paint dry interesting, because he would allow Hypnos to sleep on his shoulder or lap. 

It’s very, very easy to view those outings they’ve gone as _dates,_ and it’s a giddy, dizzying thought, that. Dates, that may become few and far in-between, before dispersing entirely as only memories, because Zagreus is occupied with his quest.

Hypnos doesn’t know if it's a coincidence he meets Zagreus in Erebus, the Prince mid-way through a run. But coincidences don’t exist, only fate, weaved by cosmic hands. And Zagreus thinks so too, as they both stand in silence within impenetrable darkness. Zagreus and his need to breach the Surface, and it was a finely tuned destiny to have them meet while Zagreus attempts so.

“I put the House to sleep.” Hypnos starts, suddenly knowing how he wants that debt paid. “I helped you start this whole charade. You said I could have anything I want, from you. You owe me, Zag, you _know_ that.”

Zagreus looks at him for a quiet moment, before he speaks. “Yes. Of course I know that, and I will never forget it, mate.” His tone is quiet, as if speaking any louder will summon the Hydra. “What was it that you had in mind, then?”

The corners of his mouth lift, slightly, a small smile presenting itself, and its from the fact he sees Zagreus smile that Hypnos realizes he himself is without his usual one.

“I want you to come back.” Hypnos’ voice comes out smaller than he’d ever like it to be, but at the moment, with green and red eyes looking down at him, he knows he’s safe. “When you break out, find your Mom, meet the Olympians, I want you to promise me you’ll come back, someday.” And, to protect himself from getting _too_ mushy: “Because Cerberus will miss you and destroy the place. Being cruel is for your Dad, not you.” 

Well, that was still mushy. But with how Zagreus’ face morphs into an open canvas of—something fragile, something soft, something so, so tender and Hypnos really, really likes this idiot, _blood and darkness._

“I’ll come back. I promise.” Zagreus says, Zagreus _promises,_ and Hypnos believes him, because he speaks the truth. “I’ll come back. To you.” 

Zagreus steps forward, reaches forward, and Hypnos’ cheek is then caressed softly by the Prince’s knuckles. The breath that leaves Hypnos is shuddered, and he cares not for such a display, when he finds sanctuary not in Erebus, but in Zagreus. Green and red, and Hypnos knows what his favourite colours are. 

“Good. There’s no one else to play the lyre as a buffoon with, without you.” Hypnos says, manually quelling the forming knot in his throat. He steps back, retracting himself from Zagreus’ touch a near impossibility but Zag’s _busy_ trying to die again, he can’t stop _that._ “Now, _shoo,_ get out of here, you’ve got Elysium to go to.”

Zagreus smiles, stays there, as if he doesn’t want to leave. “Cheers, mate.” He says, as he departs, and Hypnos isn’t alone, Zagreus’ promise a delicate embrace still. 

* * *

The courtyard is gifted with a guest. Perhaps he senses when Zagreus moves to take his leave into Tartarus, that Hypnos arrives just when the Prince was about to take that leap.

 _“‘Skelly,’_ what an unfortunate but coincidentally appropriate name. Were your parents of the vindictive ilk? Surely they were, otherwise they wouldn’t have given you such a title.” 

Hypnos’ voice is dubious, twinged with that ever present snark, as he quirks a brow at the titular skeleton. And Zagreus can already envision the verbal onslaught these two can create, like introducing the two unlocked some unfathomable, ancient power, as he watches how Skelly squints at Hypnos.

“Oh, I was skinny little thing, skin ‘n bones I were, and they simply gave me a name that was descriptive and easy to roll off the tongue. You got everything to expect from a name like that, a skeleton you can thrash round to your heart’s content!”

Skelly finishes the statement with a jump that dislodges his skull from his neck before it reconnects once gravity claims him, and Hypnos slowly turns to Zagreus.

“I cannot believe you hired a masochist skeleton to spar with. What’s wrong with you?” He asks dryly, as Skelly gives off a noise of amusement.

Zagreus snorts, _“I_ didn’t hire him, actually, he merely waltzed here and demanded I give him a good clobbering. Haven’t been able to get rid of him since, he’s a stubborn pest.”

Skelly then makes a noise of mock hurt, and Hypnos continues to stare at him.

“I cannot _believe_ you hired a masochist skeleton to spar with. What’s _wrong_ with you?” He repeats again, although distinctly more accusatory.

Skelly butts in before Zagreus can swim in those golden irises. “Hey, hey, we gonna keep babbling, or are we gonna get more of that good thrashing in? Give it to me, boyo, or scram!”

“You know, in some circles this relationship would be constituted as unhealthy.” Hypnos tsks, eyeing Skelly before looking back up to Zagreus, and Zagreus takes Skelly’s cue to scram; or, more precisely, he motions for Hypnos to walk with him as they leisurely pace towards the ledge Zagreus enjoys jumping off of.

“You expect me to leave my friend high and dry in his most dire moments of needing to be pummeled?” Zagreus muses, and Skelly is making a poor attempt to hide his interest in their conversation behind his back. His skull is literally screwed the wrong way to still look at them.

“You just said this guy was a stubborn pest. Just admit you’re a savage, Zag.” Hypnos scoffs, as they come to a stop at Zagreus’ usual exit. 

And they stand before each other, gold eyes looking upwards at red and green, and Zagreus is suddenly very confident in what his favourite colour is. 

“Come to wish me good luck, mate?” Zagreus asks, softly. 

“Something like that.” Hypnos muses with a shrug. “Since you’re basically a giant—”  
  
“Everyone’s a giant, compared to you.”

“—since you’re a _rude_ giant, you’ll have to remove your head from the stratosphere to give such a lowly pleb such as myself better access, to give you good luck.”

And there’s that _language,_ they’ve established, rearing its head. And Hypnos need not even clarify further, because Zagreus has learned to become attuned to Hypnos and his words and expressions and tone, and Hypnos’ request is one that stuns Zagreus to the point he forgets completely to ask what the _‘stratosphere’_ is. 

“Truly?” Zagreus asks with all sense of decorum lost to him, a growing _hopefulness_ a consuming presence, and Hypnos is asking to meet halfway. And Zagreus knows he would, without hesitation.

Hypnos smiles at him. “You already prance around with the infernal inhabitants of this realm and enjoy dying, how hard can this be?”

And so Zagreus leans down, and so Hypnos lifts himself on his toes (fucking _adorable),_ and their lips meet in a fantastic reunion. It matters not if this is the actual first time they’ve kissed, because it may as well as been the hundredth. Like greeting an old friend, kissing an established lover, and Zagreus’ lips moving against Hypnos’, their _tongues_ dancing, is a common, normal thing, as well as an unbelievable miracle. Hypnos’ hands are welcome denizens cupping his jaw, and Zagreus’ own are easy residents to Hypnos’ waist. It is a very, _very_ tempting thing to pick the smaller God up, and Zagreus already knows Hypnos would not be opposed to such a thing. 

For another time, as they retract, and Hypnos gasps. A small sound, his mouth an inviting _‘o’_ and Zagreus wants to devour him, suddenly, as he stares downwards at his other half. 

“Fellas,” Skelly drawls with obvious bewilderment, sights darting from Zagreus to Hypnos and back at a rapid pace. “Should I—Do you two need some privacy? Am I intruding, here?” 

Right, Skelly is still here. Would Achilles be disappointed that Zagreus’ awareness was dulled to the skeleton’s presence, he muses peripherally as he straightens to look at their voyeur. 

“You needn’t worry, my barbarism inclined friend.” Hypnos’ tone is satisfied, as if drunk on ambrosia and Zagreus is very, very proud of the fact. “Just giving Zag here an extra _boost_ for his little quest.” 

Hypnos’ hands drop from Zagreus’ jaw and face, Hypnos’ finger brought downwards to tap on Zagreus’ chest to accentuate his statement. Zagreus squeezes his hands from where they’re still stationed at Hypnos’ hips. Hypnos _shudders_ (holy _shit)_ in response and it's suddenly becoming hot in the air. 

“You honour me, mate.” Zagreus drawls, looking back at the man he belongs to. Hypnos is short of biting his lip, with how he looks up at him.

(Skelly looks on at the two, and doesn’t know if he should prepare himself for divine mounting. This is _not_ covered by his pay.)

“I’ll honour you _more_ when you come back, rest assured, _mate.”_ Hypnos _cooes,_ stepping back. Having to let his hands fall and let Hypnos go instead of taking him _right there,_ is the hardest thing Zagreus has ever needed to do. 

And there’s no need for any sort of cipher to decode _that._ It was obvious alone in his tone and words, but more so when Hypnos _winks._ And he proves himself to be a siren, when he walks back to the House proper and Zagreus cannot stop staring at his leaving form. It’s Skelly that is able to free him from his reverie, and making him realize that he has a really goofy smile cemented on his face. 

“Well look at _you,”_ Skelly _whistles,_ a congratulatory sound. “Is your name actually Endymion, boyo?”

Zagreus snickers, the phantom of Hypnos’ lips (and that _tongue!)_ one that’ll stay with him during the entirety of his run, a beckoning charmer. “Oh, if only, mate. But unfortunately I am only a close second when it comes to that man’s beauty.” 

“But you’ve clearly got his _seduction of Sleep_ down to a T, eh?” Skelly raises a brow, and Zagreus snorts.

“Thankfully, that I do.”

And he turns on his heel, jumping into Tartarus to start his run, Hypnos’ boost both distracting as it is invigorating. Dying and being deposited back to the Pool of Styx proves to be inconsequential, when Hypnos greets him with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like we should talk more about the fact Hypnos puts the House to sleep by Zageus’ request. Like, regardless if you ship them, that’s some Ride-or-Die friendship levels, like they clearly trust one another. Ugh… more friendship with Hypnos whennnnn 
> 
> Anywho, if you don’t know who Endymion is: Endymion is said to have been a mortal man so beautiful, that Hypnos was obsessed with his beauty to the point he put a spell on him, so that Endymion slept with his eyes open. Then Hypnos could Gaze Lovingly at his face even while he slept. SGG should really add a voice line for that, IMO, lol
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!


End file.
